11-25-2009, 07:46 AM
“You’re quite boring,” Trafford stated in an exaggerated drawl. Several more rounds exploded from the barrel of his high caliber handgun and were sent whistling through the air on either side of the courier’s head, before detonating harmlessly in the fair, snow-covered surface behind him. In all honesty, Alexander was not bored by this Kaden fellow in the slightest, it was just good business to keep a steadfast appearance with relatively unknown opponents. He thought the messy haired man was quite . . . humorous. Every time he dipped or dived to avoid one of the Desert Eagle’s slugs, he reminded the young telekinetic of that damned rabbit who made a fool of Elmer Fudd on his favorite childhood show, Looney Tunes. He had long since forgotten the clever character’s name, but he had always pitied poor Elmer. Perhaps, Trafford wondered to himself, this time he would catch that ‘silly wabbit.’
The weapon felt strangely light in his palm as he leveled it at his opponent, who was casually awaiting the next round of energy augmented bullets. He had begun to notice that his vision was blurry, not to the extent that he could not see, but such that it was necessary to close one eye in order to focus. As he shifted his weight onto his front foot he nearly stumbled. He had become lighter too, apparently, and unexpectedly so. Not only had his body undergone the false transformation, but his mind had as well; the stress and the tension from Vad’s demise seemed to have relinquished its haunting grip.
The Desert Eagle bounced against his hip as he let his arm drop to his side, and his trigger finger loosened. He knew these symptoms. Although, he admitted, these drugs were more relaxing and pure than his heroin.
“Man, I’m fucking high,” Alexander whispered through a smirk, bearing his pearly whites at his foe. The man did not comment, and so the telekinetic felt it was safe to assume that he could not hear him. He spoke louder this time and asked Kaden a question, “Do you smoke pal?”
Trafford reached into his suit’s inner pocket and withdrew two cigarettes. One he slid into the corner of his mouth, the other he held out towards his opponent.
“From time to time,” Kaden responded as he rose from his defensive position, “sure.”
The courier took a step forward, and Alex recognized the slight wobble in his step, along with the rosy grin plastered against his visage. Was this messy haired man high as well? He wondered, perhaps he was not the only one who buried his past beneath abuse. Not that it mattered. His inquest had been rhetorical; this fellow was foolish to believe the young telekinetic would part with one of his cherished Marlboros on charity alone. But, of course, Kaden couldn’t possible have known otherwise. Trafford waited for his counterpart to take one more step.
“Ah, now that is just too bad,” The well dressed combatant exclaimed as his furrowed brow encroached over his dark, deep set eyes. Alex tossed the cigarette into the air, nearly shedding a tear as he released it from his possession, and watched as the white cylinder amassed a layer of thick, golden energy.
The courier’s eyes immediately leapt to the cigarette, but only for a moment. His gaze followed something that lie between the floating object and the Armani adorned teenager. Trafford did not comprehend the man’s actions.
Kaden released a tiny bolt of power from his fingertips. In flight it resembled a small arrow. The miniature pseudo-attack struck the area between the cigarette and the position where Trafford stood, before vanishing into an even smaller burst of light. Alex’s confusion only increased when he suddenly lost control of the augmented Marlboro and it detonated prematurely; although, Trafford’s efforts were not entirely in vain. Apparently, the courier was not expecting the tiny cylinder to transform into a dazzling display of lashing golden tongues desperately reaching out from an explosive burst.
The young telekinetic quickly leveled the massive handgun at his momentarily distracted opponent. His finger gently squeezed the trigger in a series of slow, rhythmic motions that unleashed a number of poorly aimed slugs in the direction of his foe.
Without missing a beat, Kaden recovered from his short-lived trance and dove to his side, nearly catching a bullet in the chest as his body dropped into the soft, smooth powder. Trafford readjusted his aim, firing two more energy augmented cartridges in the direction of the courier – who immediately manifested an energy shield; and the two slugs detonated harmlessly and uselessly against the cerulean barrier.
“God damnit man!” Alexander exclaimed and his cigarette nearly fell from his mouth. “Why won’t you just die already!?”
Tugging at his Armani suit jacket and readjusting himself, Trafford inhaled deeply and drew the cancerous fumes into his lungs, forcing his frustration to subside. His enemy took a moment to dust off his jacket, before rising to one knee. Ace’s eyes lit up and the messy haired youth noticed that he had been fidgeting his hand.
“What the heck?” Kaden questioned rhetorically as his visage contorted into a mask of confusion. His ability to detect energy had almost always proved useful, but now he saw, or felt, a pooling of power under his feet. And that could not be possible, could it?
The courier looked down just in time to see the mass of gold spreading in a circle beneath him. The concentrated radius became thick and opaque with the garnering color of the entertainer’s potent energy. Kaden’s feet dug into the loose snow and he shot backwards, but the sole of the shoe that covered his back foot slid out from underneath him and he collapsed onto his side.
Explosions are generally mesmerizing to Alexander in their contradictory nature. Things that are beautiful should not also be deadly. If something is dangerous and deadly, like a snake or a blowfish, then it should be hideous, as such creatures are. But as he triggered the single shot of power, he was nearly blown away, albeit not in the same way that Kaden was. The billows of smoke intertwined as they slowly rose above the many branches of flame, both thick and thin, that crept up from the root of such a poetic tragedy, who could not find such a display to be beautiful?
But, as generally happens, Trafford’s trance was broken after the flames abated and retreated into smoldering ash. And all that was left was Kaden’s steaming, crawling figure desperately attempting to lift himself back onto his feet. Eventually, he managed to rise to one knee. But by then Alex had made his way over to his fallen opponent.
“Dodge this,” Trafford stated through a grin and a slight chuckle. He loved quoting movies. Lifting his right arm, he leveled the hand cannon at his opponent, aiming the barrel squarely at the courier’s chest. And then suddenly he remembered the name of that clever rabbit, it had been Bugs Bunny. Smirking, Alexander pulled from his childhood his favorite quotation of all time.
“Be vewy, vewy quiet, I’m hunting wabbits,” Alexander spoke with an exaggerated speech impediment. His massive grin quickly subsided as Kaden’s expression mutated into a cocktail of confusion and concern. Trafford reasserted his grip on the trigger and realigned the business end of the Desert Eagle with the courier’s chest.
The weapon felt strangely light in his palm as he leveled it at his opponent, who was casually awaiting the next round of energy augmented bullets. He had begun to notice that his vision was blurry, not to the extent that he could not see, but such that it was necessary to close one eye in order to focus. As he shifted his weight onto his front foot he nearly stumbled. He had become lighter too, apparently, and unexpectedly so. Not only had his body undergone the false transformation, but his mind had as well; the stress and the tension from Vad’s demise seemed to have relinquished its haunting grip.
The Desert Eagle bounced against his hip as he let his arm drop to his side, and his trigger finger loosened. He knew these symptoms. Although, he admitted, these drugs were more relaxing and pure than his heroin.
“Man, I’m fucking high,” Alexander whispered through a smirk, bearing his pearly whites at his foe. The man did not comment, and so the telekinetic felt it was safe to assume that he could not hear him. He spoke louder this time and asked Kaden a question, “Do you smoke pal?”
Trafford reached into his suit’s inner pocket and withdrew two cigarettes. One he slid into the corner of his mouth, the other he held out towards his opponent.
“From time to time,” Kaden responded as he rose from his defensive position, “sure.”
The courier took a step forward, and Alex recognized the slight wobble in his step, along with the rosy grin plastered against his visage. Was this messy haired man high as well? He wondered, perhaps he was not the only one who buried his past beneath abuse. Not that it mattered. His inquest had been rhetorical; this fellow was foolish to believe the young telekinetic would part with one of his cherished Marlboros on charity alone. But, of course, Kaden couldn’t possible have known otherwise. Trafford waited for his counterpart to take one more step.
“Ah, now that is just too bad,” The well dressed combatant exclaimed as his furrowed brow encroached over his dark, deep set eyes. Alex tossed the cigarette into the air, nearly shedding a tear as he released it from his possession, and watched as the white cylinder amassed a layer of thick, golden energy.
The courier’s eyes immediately leapt to the cigarette, but only for a moment. His gaze followed something that lie between the floating object and the Armani adorned teenager. Trafford did not comprehend the man’s actions.
Kaden released a tiny bolt of power from his fingertips. In flight it resembled a small arrow. The miniature pseudo-attack struck the area between the cigarette and the position where Trafford stood, before vanishing into an even smaller burst of light. Alex’s confusion only increased when he suddenly lost control of the augmented Marlboro and it detonated prematurely; although, Trafford’s efforts were not entirely in vain. Apparently, the courier was not expecting the tiny cylinder to transform into a dazzling display of lashing golden tongues desperately reaching out from an explosive burst.
The young telekinetic quickly leveled the massive handgun at his momentarily distracted opponent. His finger gently squeezed the trigger in a series of slow, rhythmic motions that unleashed a number of poorly aimed slugs in the direction of his foe.
Without missing a beat, Kaden recovered from his short-lived trance and dove to his side, nearly catching a bullet in the chest as his body dropped into the soft, smooth powder. Trafford readjusted his aim, firing two more energy augmented cartridges in the direction of the courier – who immediately manifested an energy shield; and the two slugs detonated harmlessly and uselessly against the cerulean barrier.
“God damnit man!” Alexander exclaimed and his cigarette nearly fell from his mouth. “Why won’t you just die already!?”
Tugging at his Armani suit jacket and readjusting himself, Trafford inhaled deeply and drew the cancerous fumes into his lungs, forcing his frustration to subside. His enemy took a moment to dust off his jacket, before rising to one knee. Ace’s eyes lit up and the messy haired youth noticed that he had been fidgeting his hand.
“What the heck?” Kaden questioned rhetorically as his visage contorted into a mask of confusion. His ability to detect energy had almost always proved useful, but now he saw, or felt, a pooling of power under his feet. And that could not be possible, could it?
The courier looked down just in time to see the mass of gold spreading in a circle beneath him. The concentrated radius became thick and opaque with the garnering color of the entertainer’s potent energy. Kaden’s feet dug into the loose snow and he shot backwards, but the sole of the shoe that covered his back foot slid out from underneath him and he collapsed onto his side.
Explosions are generally mesmerizing to Alexander in their contradictory nature. Things that are beautiful should not also be deadly. If something is dangerous and deadly, like a snake or a blowfish, then it should be hideous, as such creatures are. But as he triggered the single shot of power, he was nearly blown away, albeit not in the same way that Kaden was. The billows of smoke intertwined as they slowly rose above the many branches of flame, both thick and thin, that crept up from the root of such a poetic tragedy, who could not find such a display to be beautiful?
But, as generally happens, Trafford’s trance was broken after the flames abated and retreated into smoldering ash. And all that was left was Kaden’s steaming, crawling figure desperately attempting to lift himself back onto his feet. Eventually, he managed to rise to one knee. But by then Alex had made his way over to his fallen opponent.
“Dodge this,” Trafford stated through a grin and a slight chuckle. He loved quoting movies. Lifting his right arm, he leveled the hand cannon at his opponent, aiming the barrel squarely at the courier’s chest. And then suddenly he remembered the name of that clever rabbit, it had been Bugs Bunny. Smirking, Alexander pulled from his childhood his favorite quotation of all time.
“Be vewy, vewy quiet, I’m hunting wabbits,” Alexander spoke with an exaggerated speech impediment. His massive grin quickly subsided as Kaden’s expression mutated into a cocktail of confusion and concern. Trafford reasserted his grip on the trigger and realigned the business end of the Desert Eagle with the courier’s chest.
![[Image: alext.jpg]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v234/waffuru/alext.jpg)